Cortland Repertory Theatre gives Michelle Lowe's 'Smell of the Kill' an engaging production

Cortland Repertory Theatre has a way of taking tricky or difficult shows and turning them into entertaining theater.

Cortland Rep does it again with an engaging production of Michelle Lowe's "The Smell of the Kill," thanks to strong direction by Tony Capone and the talents of three superb actresses. It's a pleasure to watch three actresses of such high caliber playing off each other.

The story is simple. Three women -- 30-something in age -- are all married to selfish, overbearing, cheating louts who have been buddies since college. The couples meet for dinner once a month. On this evening, the men -- whom we hear offstage but never actually see -- somehow trap themselves in a meat freezer in the cellar.

The women hear the hammering from below and debate, sometimes violently, what to do. Should they let the men out? Or will all their lives be better if they do nothing except wait until it is time to report a "dreadful accident" to the police?

In one of those neat playwriting feats, the events of the script could happen in roughly the time it takes to perform.

The problem with the script is that there is not much to it. It would make a good Saturday Night Live skit, but since Lowe avoids any serious weighing of moral or marital issues, it's difficult to extend the comedy into a 90-minute show without intermission. Every so often, you can sense Lowe applying the defibrillation paddles, yelling "Clear!" and letting a high-voltage sitcom gag put fresh zip into the show.

The over-extended script calls for some contrived actions, but the actresses invest them with real emotions.

In Syracuse Stage's production in 2000 of "Smell of the Kill," I remember the actresses as skilled but remote, in the setting of a sumptuous but sterile-looking kitchen.

At Cortland, however, perhaps because of the intimacy of the semi-surround staging, the three women's characters seem real, vulnerable and immediate. They are somewhat cartooned, but they seem like people you know and can sympathize with. Jonathan Wentz' setting heightens that effect by depicting a modishly furnished but far from sumptuous home.

And with admirable expertise, when the initial premise begins to dwindle, the actresses magically ease over the spots of patchy writing and sustain our interest.

The home belongs to Nikky (Morgan Reis), a dark-haired go-getter, and her husband Jay (Kim Hubbard), but it won't be theirs for long. Jay faces embezzlement charges, wants to tap Nikky's pension fund to help pay his ruinous legal fees, and is surely headed for jail.

Debra (Erica Livingston) seems like an even-tempered woman who stays at home and from there helps her husband Marty (Mark Re) in his real estate business. Needless to say, she has problems the others don't know about.

Molly (Charlotte Fox) is the blonde bubblehead whose husband Danny (David Huber) smothers (and controls) her with shows of affection. What makes Fox's characterization intriguing is that the ditz has a deep, secure level of wisdom that shows once in a while. For example, Molly is often out of register with the others about simple things. Almost offhandedly, Fox lets Molly's quiet explanation resonate: "I come from money."

There's a lot of slapstick action, sometimes involving a ripped bodice or that kind of thing. Early on, Molly loses her dress (Nikki's baby spat up on it) and spends the rest of the play in a red teddy. Near the end there's a pistol shot.